


Gar bökhiin

by Lenia



Category: Marco Polo (TV)
Genre: Arm Wrestling, Hand Kink, M/M, Marco has tiny hands, Size Kink, White moon festival, poor Marco, still need a beta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:19:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenia/pseuds/Lenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is kind of the prequel of "Aftershave" requested by Mischief11!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gar bökhiin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mischief11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischief11/gifts).



> "Gar bökhiin" means arm wrestling in Mongolian! Requested by the amazing Mischeif11 who wanted size kink Byamba/Marco, enjoy :3

White Devil

 

Those words still sizzled inside his ears like acid when he handed the jeweled bracelet to Urla. It was the least Marco could do earlier in the day when he and Byamba dropped by to deliver Sanga's ashes to his widowed wife as the final remnants of closure.  
Indeed forty days is far to late as Goland spat, yes he is a devil, as he and Byamba trespassed into Sanga's house to obtain information from his grieving wife and family to find who was the real culprit behind Sanga's murder.

Giving the bracelet to Urla for condolences of her father and bribing her to never speak a word or utter the name of Ahmad or it would be her or Marco's body to be trampled to death by horses. Hopefully she could use this trinket to feed her family instead of the use her body, he prayed that they would find a better future without Sanga.

Despite this joyous evening of the New Year he could not part take the celebration. What is there to celebrate about? He was thankful for cutting ties with his father and good riddance to his sneering uncle. Deep down in the pit of his stomach he felt a cold satisfaction as they squealed like pigs when he branded them for their treachery and pledged his full alliance to Kublai Khan. After all these months Marco was sold into slavery, Niccolo and Maffeo got what they deserve. Branded as thieves and no golden tablet to shield them, despite this Marco prayed for The Three Sisters to watch over them on their journey back to Venezia.

The night was humid and Marco's white robes stuck unpleasantly on his skin. The Latin wondered around like a ghost amongst the crowd of the white robed commoners and the white robed horseman carrying their torches. He spot the Khan and Empress dressed elegantly in pure white along with their son, Prince Jingim who was as always handsome and elegant as ever sat brooding silently, along him his three beautiful wives. At the far end he saw Kokachin, melancholy and beautiful. Those robes however did not suit her, it seemed to wash away the statue of the Blue Princess. Marco should tell her that he delivered the jewels accordingly as promised whatever secret she's willing to protect. 

"Marco! Why are you wondering about like a lost sheep?"

The Latin almost jumped out of his skin when he heard that strong familiar voice behind him and felt a strong heavy arm settled around his shoulders. "B-B-Byamba?!" Marco stuttered as he felt his body sway by the massive man's unbalanced steps. Byamba was dressed in white with luxurious wolf hide from head to toe with beautiful beads twinkling in the night, reflecting the moon. The man looked down to his much smaller companion and smiled, "It seems this infectious evening of happiness falls short of one, Marco! Come, let us celebrate this evening and fill our bellies with araig!"

"Wait! Byamba, let go of me!" His pleas fell on deaf ears as Marco's pitiful attempt of struggling to break away from Byamba's grasp as he was dragged off. The man was clearly drunk by the way his dark brown eyes shinned and the smell of strong araig that stuck to his breath.

"Byamba, release me!" Marco uselessly tried to break out of his headlock and dug his heels on the ground but it was even more difficult as he was battered by the crowd made him all the more anxious to escape. Byamba's strong-armed prevented this as Marco was in an unescapable headlock and ceased his futile struggling as both passed by the sea of drunkards and made their way to a tiny bar.

Byamba swung open the bar's doors then entered inside and Marco saw a strong fearsome group of men sitting around a small table that made feel like Marco a ant in comparison. 

"Friends!" He said grandly as he shoved Marco in front of him and slammed his shoulders with his hands. "I hope you don't mind that I brought in an extra player for our game."

A brute of a man stood up as he greeted Byamba. For some reason the man looked familiar, especially his bald head...

The man smiled and laughed "More the merrier, brother!" He said and glanced down on Marco as he smiled teasingly.

"Came here for another rematch, Polo?!"

It struck him. Yes he remembered the man during the feast when he wrestled in Jingim's stead to preserve his honor. The same man who swung him around like a rag doll and nearly strangled him to death until Khutulun dashingly rescued him after she taken his virginity.

What a eventful night that was...

Marco smiled at him good naturally, hoping the man won't strangle him as he held out his arm in greeting,"Yes, it seemed we have not been properly introduced..."

"Ganbaatar" The bear of a man said with a grin and grasped his forearm and shook it vigorously, "Come Polo, we have a extra chair waiting for you!" 

Byamba laughed behind him and shoved Marco further into the bar and he sat him down on the seats. The other two men looked at him as he was some strange small creature and Marco sat tall trying not to shrink from their gaze.

"Polo, these are Masgud and Okhotur, Masgud and Okhotur this is Polo! Now ceased the tense introduction and let's continue our game!" Ganbaatar said beamingly and glanced down at Marco, "Polo, are familiar with the game of 'arm-wrestling?'"

Of coarse he was! Why did the other Mongols assumed he lived under a rock? He witnessed the way of the Mongol wrestling first hand with Khutulun who made herself royalty of it. Arm-wrestling was just as renowned in Mongolia as it was at Venice! 

"Yes" the Latin said confidently, "two strong warriors trying to outmatch the strength of their other opponent by the clasping of arms!

Ganbaatar barked out a laugh and gesture his hands to the two young serving girls on the far end of the bar table, "Bring us the strongest airag!!!"

The men whistled, hollered, and hooted as the girls brought in heavy jugs of airag and bowls, the girls were very beautiful and dressed in white for the occasion. One of the girls turned to Marco and gave him a flirtatious wink and he returned this by flashing a charming smile. 

Byamba sat on his left and he could feel the heat of his leg pressed against Marco's thigh. Somehow it made him flush but not because of the mugginess in the air, that confused him slightly. The men around him drank copious amount of araig, laughing full heartily while Marco slurped not really fond of the araig and not wanting the feel of Byamba's strong hands on his jaw forcing the fermented milk down his throat. Not a moment later Marco felt a delightful buzz fill his head. 

Amazing how a few sips of the airag he felt the effects already that made Marco feel a bit tipsy. Embarrassingly, Marco has always been a lightweight and never really like partaking in drinking contest. Masgud and Okhotur were already tangled by arms, their heavy arms flexed and the veins beneath their skin bulge as Ganbaatar cheered over them. Okhotur seemed to have the upper hand and slammed Masgud's arm down in the table. 

"Hah!!!"

Okhotur cheered raising his arms in triumphant than gestured his hands out to receive some payment. 

"12 pieces!" He grouses as Masgud reaches for his pouch, growling slightly.

Wait, money? He had no money with him! Curses, he should have known that any game of some sort of contest that money was required and he had nothing to bet. Those jewels he traded off to Urla, he could have used them! 

Byamba must have known what Marco's was thinking because he kicked his leg playfully under the table and smiled.

"Do not fret, Marco, you will challenge me for our game" He rumbles deep within his throat which made Marco shift in his seat. The air in the bar was getting hotter and hotter by the minute...

"That's a relief, I have nothing to spare" Marco smirked as Byamba smiled and left his side of the seat to sit across from him as the other men were gathered around them now.

"My bets on Byamba!" Okhotur hooted, "What's on yours?"

"I have none, because you took the last of my coins, you shit!" Masgud snarled as Ganbaatar laughed.

"Don't worry, Marco", Byamba said as he rolled his sleeves revealing his strong arms, "I'll go easy on you!"

"Don't think of me a weak man, Byamba" The Latin said mimicking his actions," I have honed my strength under the training of Hundred Eyes" He said smugly.

"Then let's put your skills to the test than!" Byamba challenged his large hand swallowed Marco's slims one. The warriors hand was large enough that his calloused hand easily dig into the back of Marco's. The Latin's hands has always been smaller than average of a man and were often compared to that of a woman. His hands were soft but grown calloused through training and dances of swords until they bled and blistered. His hands looked dainty and delicate compared to Byamba's large bear like once's he blushed slightly when he saw his small white fingers were almost engulfed by Byamba's grip. 

Empty promises because Byamba wasn't holding back as he had Marco in a merciless grip and Marco felt beads of sweat accumulate beneath his bangs. There was no sign of strain what so ever on Byamba's face as his eyes were have lidded and his chin resting on his other hand that Marco's temper boil. His arm was beginning to quake under the pressure and Byamba looked in complete zen which infuriated him to no end as he tried to put his whole body weight in it. 

Now the Latin was completely off his seat and had one knee on the table with his other leg on the floor so he was half standing. Marco abandoned the one arm rule as he was using two arms trying to bring Byamba's down into his side of the table and Marco's nails turned white because of the pressure. The contest should've been long from over now and it appeared that Byamba was just playing with him, prolonging their game because Marco had no chance of winning. 

His strength was to much his arm was pushing him lower and lower on to the table along with Marco's body with him as he was bend over awkwardly. He huffed and puffed trying to find that boast of extra adrenaline within his muscle to take down Byamba's but there was nothing as his arm hovered a bit off the table. 

Not a moment later Marco was overpowered by the large man and his hand slammed down on the table 

Marco panted, red faced and sweating he surrendered. 

The men cheered for Byamba as he sat back and flexed his wrist back and force as he smiled satisfyingly 

"Well Latin, it seems that I'm the victor!" He gazed at the smaller man.

Marco's arm felt lifeless and tingled from the strain, "What can I do to offer tribute?"

He wished he shouldn't have asked that because he cheeky grin split between Byamba's lips...

 

In came morning Marco woke up with a terrible headache.

The sun from the window hit him directly on his face that made him moaned like a dying creature as he turned to his other side to protect himself from the morning rays.

A little annoying voice in his head telling him to get off the bed or he'll be late for the morning council meeting so Marco painfully dragged himself out of bed and made himself to the washroom to clean himself. He gazed at himself on the mirror and traced his fingers on his scruffy beard and let out wistful sigh, he was going to miss his beard.

'For your tribute, Marco shave your beard to show humility for your losses'

He gritted his teeth and remembered Byamba words of honor and humility of last night. He should not feel betrayed of Byamba because he was the one who lost and Byamba could've done worse for him to show other ways of humility. 

Marco took a small shaving razor he used from the sink to keep his beard trim and neat but sadly he will not use it for a long time.

He took one last look of his bearded face and he position the razor underneath his jaw...

**Author's Note:**

> My sexual headcanon is Marco was a virgin before he met Khutulun during the feast episode! Just look at that mortified look on his face when he thought that Khutulun was flirting with him. 'All the women he conquered' all lies because Khutulun was the one who conquered Marco first!


End file.
